


Rest and Reboot

by Ramblingandpie



Series: Adynaton [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dystopia, Original Fiction, Psychological Horror, adynaton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 08:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13543866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramblingandpie/pseuds/Ramblingandpie
Summary: A woman returns home from a stay at a very specialized hospital.





	Rest and Reboot

The houses looked familiar, at least, as she watched them out the car window.

The doctor had warned Lakaylee that certain things might seem strange. So far, the houses were the only familiar thing she had seen. Waking up in a plush hotel room would have been normal enough, but her last memory prior to that was being at a pool party.

_ Don’t think about it. _

The roads that the driver took were like the back of her hand. She knew she had lived in this neighborhood for a long time.

“Would you like me to come in with you?” the aide asked.

Lakaylee shook her head.

“Remind me. How long was I away?”

“Three weeks,” the aide replied. 

Three weeks. Right. The doctor had said that.

She felt as though the memories of those three weeks at the Rest and Reboot center were there, somewhere, just out of reach.

“I know that look,” the aide said. “Remember the doctor’s instructions. Take a few deep breaths.” Lakaylee felt her chest expand with the breaths. “Whatever trauma you experienced is left at the center. It can’t bother you anymore.”

Right. Trauma. What could be traumatic at a pool party?

“But trying to think about it can be stressful. And sometimes other things get caught up in the therapy, so remember: just go with the flow.”

Lakaylee nodded. The aide smiled. “Stick to a routine, and within a few days, you’ll be right as rain. Besides, who could be unhappy in this neighborhood?” The aide gestured out the window.

The houses were pristine white mammoths with gleaming windows. The vast manicured grass lawns all matched exactly. Lakaylee looked down at her manicured nails, feeling as though they, perhaps, did not match something. She wasn’t sure what they would need to match.

They pulled into the driveway. She at least remembered the house, and the tree out front with its pink flowers. She was certain that it was not blooming when she left.

“Here’s our stop,” the aide said. “This is your last chance if you’d like me to go in with you, or if you have any questions.”

Lakaylee paused for a moment. “Are you sure the memories won’t come back?”

“Positive,” the aide said. “I’ve been working with the Rest and Reboot center for several years now. The advancements that they’ve made are tremendous. The medication ensures that whatever you spoke to the doctors about left your memory for good.” She smiled. “Sometimes innocuous things can get caught up in the process, so yes, everything will probably seem a bit weird for a few days. The more you talked about something, the more your memories would let it go. Your family knows that there might be side effects, and they know to get you back into a routine as quickly as possible.”

Routine seemed like a nice idea. The car stopped near the door, next to the fountain. She opened the car door.

“And don’t forget to smile! Remember: happiness is something that you choose.”

She smiled. Right. Smiling was important.

She took her time absorbing in the details as she walked to the front door. The grass had just been cut and she savored the smell of it. Had it always been this bright green? Had the flowers always been so lush? Her memories seemed duller than what presented itself.

She placed her palm on the reader and heard the door click unlocked. She pushed it open and heard an excited squeal of “Mommy’s home!” from inside.

She let the door swing open and knelt, her muscle memory prepared for the onslaught as her son ran through the front hall and into her arms.

“I missed you, mommy!” he said, the words muffled into her shoulder.

“I missed you too, pumpkin,” she said, patting the back of his head and ruffling his hair. When did he get so big?

The nanny came next. “Bradlic, don’t smother your mother!” The women both laughed at the familiar admonition. For a moment, things felt normal.

“Were you good while I was in the hospital?” she asked.

The boy nodded. “I was very good! So good! Daddy said that it was important for me to be good so you could get better. And so I could tell you all about what you missed.”

The nanny ushered both of them into the breakfast nook in the kitchen. “I’ll let you two catch up. Can I get you a snack?”

Lakaylee shook her head. They warned her that the medication would limit her appetite. The nurse had presented it as a weight-loss bonus that came with her stay, but at that moment she had no fondness for the nausea that came with even thinking about eating.

Her son requested carrot sticks, which were promptly furnished.

“I’m going to get working on the laundry. Holler if you need me. The mister will be home in about an hour,” the nanny said, and ushered herself out.

Lakaylee spent the next hour smiling and laughing while the boy regaled her with tales of what had happened while she was gone. He had done well on a reading test, had painted three pictures of cars, and had made her no less than seven “get well soon” cards. When he asked if she had received them in the hospital, she nodded. Receiving cards actually felt vaguely familiar. Comforting, at least. She wondered briefly what happened to them.

About an hour later, she heard the door click, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Honey, I’m home!” boomed his voice.

“Daddy’s home!” the boy shouted excitedly.

“We’re in the kitchen,” Lakaylee called.

He walked in and swooped her into his arms. “I missed you so much while you were gone, darling.” He kissed her forehead.

There was one thing of which Lakaylee was certain, more than anything else since she left the hospital.

She had never seen this man before in her life.


End file.
